


Brew-tea-ful Accidents

by cx_shhhh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, But it's actually tea, Coffee Addict Enjolras, M/M, Tea Shop Employee Grantaire, not Coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 23:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cx_shhhh/pseuds/cx_shhhh
Summary: Grantaire has no idea what a coffee addict would be doing in his tea shop... and he keeps coming back for some odd reason.





	Brew-tea-ful Accidents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bansttr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bansttr/gifts).

> For Staircase Handle, who drinks too much coffee.  
I saw a cute writing prompt and just had to do something about it.

Lemon Tea  
The first time Enjolras walks into the tea shop, he’s searching for fair trade coffee. Once he steps over the threshold in his glorious pressed shirt and slacks, the first thought to ever cross Grantaire’s mind is, _Oh, he’s beautiful. Like blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful._ Sadly, that reverie is quick to be startled by the words that come out of his mouth. “You sell fair trade coffee, right?”

Grantaire stares in open-mouthed horror at the man who was welcomed by the shop’s adorable bell and marched in like a righteous and vengeful deity. “C-coffee? What sort of bean juice drinking heathens do you think we are?”

The frown that crosses Enjolras’s face radiates disappointment and is, quite frankly, adorable. Grantaire has to fight the urge to immediately take back his previous statement and start cooing at him. “Uh, we don’t sell that disgusting bean juice that ranges from bitter to diabetes here. You see, this is a tea shop cleverly named by my colleague, ‘Liber-tea, Egali-tea, and Fraterni-tea’.”

Enjolras scrubs a hand over his face and says, “Right. Tea. Sorry, I barely function at seven-something in the morning.”

Grantaire waves that off. “I don’t blame you. After all, you are only human and certainly not a god that has sunshiny beams shine out of his ass.”

The weird look that Enjolras gives Grantaire is well-deserved. “Sorry, what? Are you sure you’re supposed to say stuff like that to your customers?”

“Oh, definitely not. Jehan made that plenty clear when he hired me. But Éponine and I make it our goal to drive away anybody who don’t accept us for who we are.” Grantaire tags an overly saccharine tone onto the end. “I know everybody who comes in, so they all know my charming personali-tea.”

“Hmm, interesting. That pun was necessary?”

“Yeah. It comes in the job description. What’s your name again?”

“Something tells me that I shouldn’t be giving people like you my name.”

Grantaire grins, “Well, there’s only one person like me, and that’s me, soo…”

“Enjolras.”

“May the deities above bless you.”

“What the actual fuck. That’s my name, stupid.”

Grantaire pouts mockingly, “And my name is Grantaire, not ‘Stupid’. I try to be as neutral towards religion, politics, and everything else as possible.”

Enjolras frowns again (gah, Grantaire’s gonna die from that wonderful sight one day). “It’s good to have some sort of opinion.”

Grantaire raises his hands in an innocent gesture. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood barista. No need to go all avenging angel on me.”

Enjolras scoffs (a wonderful sound) and grits out, “I hardly think you’re qualified to even be considered a ‘barista’. You guys don’t even serve coffee.”

“Hey, you’re always welcome to leave. We’re actually gonna have customers come in, so all you’ll do is hold up the line.”

“Well I can’t exactly just wander in and leave empty-handed. Just think about all those people who could be benefitted by fair trade! Now that I think about it, my roommate had mentioned this place before.”

“Oh? Who, may I ask?”

“Er, Combeferre.”

Grantaire lights up at the familiar name. “Tall doctor with glasses and an enthusiastic Courfeyrac hanging off his arm?”

Enjolras hums, “That actually sounds about right.”

“Huh, small world. Well, we have the loose lemon tea blends he likes, so help yourself.”

Grantaire refuses Enjolras’s money a few minutes later. “Just think of it as thanks for entertaining me during the dreadful morning hours. Oh, and that tea is a good substitute for that overly caffeinated beverage you seem to be addicted to, trust me.”

“That’s more of a sixth accidental visit thing.”

Grantaire laughs, “Ha, if you ever get lost again, just ask for ‘R’.”

As Enjolras walks out the door, he glances back, tosses a smirk at Grantaire and says smugly, “Nice pun. Bold of you to assume I’ll just happen to get lost again, though.”

Green Tea  
The second time Enjolras walks through that door, he’s rubbing his eyes and yawning. Éponine is at the counter while Jehan stocks the displays and self-service bins. Grantaire ducks into the storage closet just as the bell announces a person’s arrival with a cheerful, _ding_.

Grantaire doesn’t see who it is, but the voice is certainly recognizable. “Hey, you sell coffee right?”

Éponine replies with a confused look on her face, “Uh, no? This store hasn't seen a single Arabica bean since Jehan opened it.”

Grantaire watches from behind large cardboard boxes as Enjolras blinks to clear his head. “Oh! My bad. I didn’t notice the sign.”

Grantaire almost lets him walk out the door again when he stupidly, _stupidly_ yells, “Hey, Apollo!”

Enjolras stops in his tracks and turns his head, glare already fixed in place. Grantaire swears this happens almost like one of those slow-motion moments in a rom-com when the love interest turns, hair whipping into their face and sparkles shooting out of their faces. Well, in this case, daggers shooting out of Enjolras’s eyes are more likely.

_“R? What the hell?”_

Grantaire sets down his box and puts his hands on his hips, leaning nonchalantly against the doorway. “You seem like an observant person, Enjolras. So much for the whole not getting lost thing.”

Enjolras groans and buries his face into his hands. “Shit. If you’re here ruffling my metaphorical feathers again, that means I’m in your tea haven something or other. Coffee addicts like me burn in hell when they smell tea, you know.”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at Enjolras’s humor. “Burning in hell seems a little inaccurate. The demons also suck your veins dry. That’s how they get their energy. From the all that caffeine you ingest. But don’t worry, you’re much too angelic for any of that to happen.”

Éponine, who had been watching the entire exchange with a barely hidden smirk, shoves her apron into Grantaire’s arms, eliciting an _“oof”_ from the man. “It seems like you’ve made a friend. I’ll deal with everyone else. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep standing up. Give him a drink, will ya?”

Grantaire salutes Éponine as she slinks to the boiling kettles, grabbing Jehan by the sleeve. He ties the apron around his back, not noticing the way Enjolras’s eyes seem to be following his every movement. “Well, Apollo. Sit down or something, so you can be properly pampered.”

Enjolras’s blue eyes flash indignantly. He sniffs, “I don’t need pampering. That’s for the bourgeoisie. The name of this shop must mean _something_ to you guys.”

Grantaire shrugs as he waves Enjolras off into a corner. “Eh, it was Jehan’s idea. We all love puns anyway, so you could say that’s all I really vouched for.”

Enjolras grumpily collapses onto a squishy chair, muttering, _“To think a shop was named after Robespierre’s famous words, and they don’t even believe in him. Bah.”_

It takes all of Grantaire’s effort to stifle a laugh because grumpy Enjolras is just way too cute. Then, he has to use all of his effort not to make squealing noises because _oh, sleeping Enjolras is even cuter, oh my God. His lashes are so long, and those cheekbones! Wow… _

A few minutes later, Grantaire gently shakes Enjolras’s shoulder, causing him to flail and nearly knock over the mug filled with aromatic green tea. Sleepy Enjolras’s eyes widen in an almost innocent way as he looks up at Grantaire and asks, “Smells good… for me?”

If he wasn’t more in control of himself, Grantaire would have banged his head against the nearest wall in exasperation, all the while melting into a puddle of cooing goo. “No, it’s for the invisible person who also just woke up. Yes, idiot, it’s for you.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Well that’s too bad. Drink up!”

As Enjolras begrudgingly sips at the steaming beverage, Grantaire takes the chance to ramble on about the benefits of green tea versus coffee. “It helps you wake up so much better without giving you a heart attack at the age of-”

“Twenty-five.”

“Oh. You’re actually older than me, probably by less than a year.”

As Enjolras opens the door again, he’s feeling much more refreshed. Grantaire smiles and winks, announcing in a sing-song voice, “Just you wait, lovely Apollo. My irresistible self will have you coming back for more~”

Peppermint Tea  
The third time Enjolras walks through that godforsaken door, he’s soaked to the bone. To be fair, he should’ve had the foresight to check the weather before heading to the office. But the jaw-dropped expression on Grantaire’s face must have been worth the sneezes. 

Grantaire gapes openly at the puddle quickly forming on his polished floor. He drags his eyes up, past the length of waterlogged clothing that’s nearly see-through and showing just enough skin for his mouth to water, and asks incredulously, “Uh, is there a reason you’re creating a personal swimming pool? I thought that was a high society thing to do, but I guess not.” 

Enjolras scowls and glances around, checking that nobody’s there. “I, uh, didn’t check the weather, and the closest building was this one. So I’ll just hang around until the rain lets up, if you don’t mind.” 

Grantaire snorts, “Of course I mind. Éponine will have my ass if you continue to ruin the floor. And Jehan will also have my ass if he finds out that I let you stand there, probably developing a cold, in your wet clothing.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

Grantaire simply tugs on Enjolras’s drenched sleeve, ignoring his adorable befuddled expression. “Come on. You’re a little taller than me, but I’m sure you’ll fit in my _dry_ clothing.” 

Grantaire not only gives Enjolras dry clothing to change into (which he has no right to look so hot in, it’s a fucking t-shirt and sweatpants, for God’s sake), but also boils water on his kitchen stove for peppermint tea. Thankfully, he thought ahead and predicted the sniffles and sneezing. It’s all very cute and wholesome and Grantaire doesn’t know what to do with himself when the flush starts rising in Enjolras’s cheeks. “You sound like a kitten.” 

He has to hold in laughter at that half-hearted attempt at a ferocious glare. That paired with a cherry-red nose and flushed cheeks just makes Enjolras look even more adorable. Enjolras is saved from further embarrassment by the kettle screaming in the kitchen. He jumps. “What the hell?” 

Grantaire laughs freely this time. “Ahaha… just the water… haha.” 

“Hmph.” 

“Anyway. Peppermint tea is good for you. So don’t even try to refuse it!” 

Grantaire tries very hard not to be jealous of an inanimate object from the way Enjolras’s lips touch the mug’s edge. Enjolras swallows, tipping his head back to get the last few drops, and Grantaire stares at the graceful line of his throat. “Ahem. Isn’t it hot?” 

“I drink scalding coffee like a thirsty man in the middle of a desert. My tongue is not to be underestimated.” 

Grantaire chokes on his own spit. “Alright, Apollo. Whatever you say.” 

“This is very strong, though.” 

“Peppermint clears sinuses, doofus." 

Enjolras ends up staying the night after waiting inside Grantaire’s apartment above the shop in vain for the rain to let up. Grantaire is nervous the entire time, from Enjolras calling Combeferre in order to inform him of this dilemma all the way to waking up in the morning with a mouthful of blonde curls and arms wrapped snugly around his waist. _How the hell did that even happen?_

Grantaire waits with bated breath, eyes wide, as Enjolras stirs. This scenario is definitely something like sixth accidental visit material. Certainly not the third. Enjolras freezes above him, but Grantaire fixes his stare onto the soft gray shirt in front of him and definitely not the stretch of exposed _beautiful abs that could be carved out of marble, AHHHHH._ Now Grantaire’s freaking out. 

When Enjolras stumbles out the door in the early morning, Combeferre and Courfeyrac are waiting with the car. They eye Enjolras’s borrowed clothes and fluffy bedhead, glance at each other in surprise, and smirk at Grantaire’s flustered expression. Grantaire quickly composes himself and calls after Enjolras’s retreating back, “Hope you had a lovely sleep, Apollo! And thanks for that nice puddle on the floor for me to clean up!” 

Chamomile Tea  
The fourth time Enjolras runs into the tea shop, he slams the door shut before the bell could even finish ringing. He’s also bleeding. There aren’t any major wounds, but once Grantaire sees the cut on Enjolras’s beautiful face, he wants to cry. Grantaire reaches out and tilts Enjolras’s head to inspect it. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

Enjolras grits out, “Peaceful protest not so peaceful anymore. My friends and I were at the front. I ducked in here without looking. Police were chasing me.” 

This time, Grantaire drags Enjolras into the tiny bathroom down the hall. Being in a cramped space with Enjolras cannot possibly be good for Grantaire’s poor heart, but Enjolras’s face is more important. “I’ll call Joly to take a look, but I can clean it for you?” 

Enjolras must have taken pity on Grantaire’s unsure expression because he nods and sits down. Honestly, having Enjolras’s handsome features that close in proximity should have caused Grantaire to die of happiness. Somehow, he manages to wipe the grime off and use a piece of gauze to stem the bleeding without randomly combusting. 

Joly arrives from the protest and nearly screams at the sight of Enjolras’s face. That causes Grantaire to snort. “I never believed for a second that Apollo’s face could elicit that sort of reaction, but who knows, anything could happen at this point. Pinch me, though, if he states that my tea is better than coffee.” 

Little does Grantaire know that Enjolras is already halfway convinced. Enjolras grumbles, “I’m still here y’know.” 

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Right, how could I possibly forget. Let Joly help you, and I’ll brew tea.” 

A few minutes later, Bossuet and Musichetta burst through the door, followed closely by Bahorel and Feuilly. Grantaire raises his eyebrows, concerned. “Where are the others?” 

Feuilly replies, “Jehan and Éponine are missing, but I’m sure they’ve escaped. Éponine’s brother knows things, so they’ll contact you once everything is clear. Courf and ’Ferre hung around to make sure there wasn’t too much damage.” 

Immediately, the room releases a heavy sigh of relief. Looking defeated, Enjolras turns to the group and breathes out, “I’m so sorry for not sticking around. It should’ve been my responsibility to take on most of it." 

Grantaire narrows his eyes and audaciously wraps Enjolras in a tight hug, not quite sure what his reaction would be. “Stop blaming yourself. You were in a bad situation, and I’m glad you came here first. Now, _tea_.” 

Enjolras rests his head against Grantaire’s shoulder as he mumbles an uncharacteristically quiet, _“Okay.”_

Everyone gathers around one of the round tables as the door opens, and Éponine walks in. She bends over, hands on her knees, and pants, “We’re all good. Jehan’s coming. R, you have any tea?”

Grantaire raises the mug he’s pouring water into as a greeting. He does not notice the way Enjolras fixes his eyes on Grantaire’s arms, utterly fascinated by the sheer grace of the action. Grantaire steeps the tea bags and leans forward onto the countertop. “Chamomile relieves stress. Cheer up guys, and drink the positivi-tea.” 

Enjolras groans almost right away. “No way. I refuse to believe-” 

“Well, you’d better be-leaf it,” Grantaire chirps as he hands out mugs of tea. Courfeyrac is the first to make grabby hands at one, nearly knocking Enjolras over. The tense atmosphere in the room dissipates as soon as the first sips are taken. They end up closing up early, drinking chamomile tea, and exchanging various anecdotes about each other. Grantaire learns about the extent of Enjolras’s work-induced stress and the inevitable coffee addiction that follows. 

The first to come in and the last to leave, Enjolras is almost reluctant to walk out of that homely little tea shop. Grantaire does notice that bit and waves cheerfully. “Come back anytime, Apollo!” 

Ginger Tea  
The fifth time Enjolras finds himself in the tea shop, Courfeyrac and Combeferre are each supporting one of his arms while he grins dopily. Grantaire stares in shock because he never thought a scenario like this would happen. The last time he’d been acquainted with alcohol was back in his dreadful college years, before Jehan opened up the shop. Thankfully, Éponine found the shop and managed to drag Grantaire out of that alcoholic state. 

Back to the delightful present. “So, uh, anyone want to tell me what’s going on? We honestly need to stop having these situations where Apollo puts himself in inevitable danger.” 

Courfeyrac giggles and announces, “We managed to drag Enjy away from his work, went to the bar down the street, and he got piss-drunk. Turns out, he’s quite a happy drunk. Wouldn’t stop going on about a certain someone’s, I quote, ‘lovely blue eyes and fluffy dark hair’.” 

If anyone else takes note of Grantaire’s deepening blush, they don’t mention it. “Um, ok… so I guess I’ll handle him? If you let him stay here, I have the best hangover cure from my past life.” 

Combeferre, ever the tactful man, nods and warns against any sort of “funny business”. Grantaire scoffs, “Like I’d do anything to harm Enjolras. I lo- ahem, so, yeah. I’ll take good care of him.” 

Both of them are frighteningly observant (they’re one of _those_ couples that share the same mindset) and give Grantaire knowing grins. He has the night shift, so when he feels as if there won’t be any other customers, he sits Enjolras down and locks up. Grantaire turns back toward Enjolras and sits as well. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me.” 

Enjolras stares back at him with those strikingly blue eyes, face breaking out into a wide smile. He reaches a hand out to cup Grantaire’s burning cheek. “That’s okie, I like spending time here!” 

Grantaire mutters, “Sure, when you get drunk or need sleep. I’d like to see you come in here to drink tea with me.” 

Drunk Enjolras is much more perceptive than Sober Enjolras. He pouts and sticks his tongue out. “What are you talking about? I come here all the time to see you!” 

Grantaire snorts, “Sure. Tell me that when you’re sober. I know from experience that being drunk loosens your brain considerably.” 

Enjolras lets loose an uncharacteristically bubbly laugh when Grantaire hooks an arm around his waist to practically haul him upstairs. “That tickles!” 

“Yeah? Well deal, Apollo.” 

“Why are you being so mean to me?” 

Grantaire sighs, “So you won’t be disappointed when you wake up tomorrow. Speaking of, you’d better sleep the alcohol off.” 

Enjolras’s face falls immediately, and _are those tears?!_ Grantaire panics for a moment before shoving a fluffy blanket into his arms. Enjolras all but collapses onto the couch and buries his lovely face into the blanket. “Sleep with me, R!” 

Grantaire’s cheeks flood with a deep red and he laughs shakily. “Please don’t say things like that. Or else I’ll end up doing things I’ll regret.” 

He doesn’t get a response as Enjolras is already kitten-snoring on the couch, completely passed out. Grantaire exhales for the millionth time and tugs the blanket to completely cover Enjolras’s lanky body. In a fit of random bravery, he leans down to brush a soft kiss to Enjolras’s smooth forehead, admiring, for the second time, the peaceful expression on his face. “Good night, Apollo.” 

Enjolras wakes up at noon the next day to a splitting headache and the sharp scent of ginger tea on an unfamiliar coffee table (ha the irony). A vague memory of someone brushing their lips against his face remains. There’s a note placed next to the cup in Grantaire’s spidery scrawl. 

_Morning, Apollo. If you complain about having to drink the tea, it’s your hangover to deal with.  
R x_

Grantaire isn’t sure whether Enjolras actually drained the cup or dumped the contents into the sink, but he’ll never get used to the sight of a less-than-put-together Enjolras. _It’s cute though, so whatever._

When Combeferre arrives, Enjolras is rubbing his eyes, but doesn’t look like he’s in pain. Grantaire smiles to himself, a genuine and not self-deprecating smile. As Enjolras drags himself out the door, Grantaire can’t help but say, “Don’t drink anything I wouldn’t, Apollo. Coffee not included, of course.” 

Black Tea  
The next time Enjolras walks into the tea shop, there’s purpose shining in his blue eyes. Grantaire isn’t sure whether to jump out of joy or to stand frozen in fear. That gleam in Enjolras’s eyes is frightening, to say the least. Grantaire just barely suppresses a squeak when Enjolras approaches the counter and simply stares him down. “Uh, Apollo? Can I help you?” 

“I need tea.” 

Well, that explains the whole intimidation thing going on. There’s no way Enjolras would willingly ask for anything, even as simple as tea, that disrupts his routinely norm. _Like coffee should even be considered a norm._

Grantaire blinks once and nods at the self-service shelves. “Um, help yourself. I’m sure you’re capable of that.” 

Then, Enjolras actually starts fidgeting. _Huh, this is getting weirder and weirder. First scary and now nervous? Who is this man?_ Enjolras halts Grantaire’s train of thought. “I meant, to drink. Like here.” 

“What.” 

“I’ve taken a liking to the tea you’ve forced into me?” 

_“What.”_

Enjolras throws his hands up in exasperation. “Black tea. I’m ordering a cup of black tea. I researched its health benefits.” 

Grantaire’s overwhelmed mind finally catches up. “Oh, uh, sure. I’ll get Jehan to brew it.” 

He’s stopped before he can even turn around. “Ah, no. Allow me to rephrase: I like the tea _you_ brew for me.” 

Grantaire’s mouth makes an “o” shape as he finally understands. “If I’m reading this completely incorrectly, please stop me before I make a bigger fool of myself.” 

Enjolras nods, face tensing unnaturally. So, Grantaire takes that as a cue to continue. “You’ve stumbled into this tea shop, a coffee addict, on accident five times. Were they actually on accident?” 

Enjolras swallows visibly. “Just the first time. And the next few times. During the drinking incident, though, I distinctly remember mentioning to Courf that I wanted to see you before everything went to shit. Other than that, I wanted to make excuses to keep coming back without giving myself away. Also so you could continue to make tea for me.” 

“I-I’m a little lost.” 

Enjolras blushes (it’s a sight that Grantaire could never get sick of) and clears his throat. “Make me tea, Grantaire. I trust you. And I, um, really like you too.” 

“_Oh._ Right. Sixth accidental visit thing, trusting me. And you _like_ me,” Grantaire smiles softly. "I must be dreaming. There's no way that lovely Apollo could ever like me back." 

“Yeah, you’d better be-leaf it.” 

Grantaire must look like a lovestruck fool after hearing that pun come straight out of Enjolras’s gorgeous lips. A smirk appears on aforementioned lips as Enjolras leans across the counter and presses a chaste kiss against Grantaire’s own mouth. It’s delightfully sweet and wholesome and cute, just enough to make Grantaire melt for sure this time. Before the two of them separate too quickly, Grantaire grabs ahold of the collar of Enjolras’s red dress shirt to drag him back and crush their lips together in a searing kiss, tongues _included, oh my._

Grantaire leaps back, short of breath because, “Holy _shit_, that was hot. But not as hot as the tea that I still need to make you!” 

He retreats to the kettle, muttering, “Thank Jesus and everyone else people worship these days that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and nobody’s here.” 

Grantaire is a mess, tripping over himself as he sets the black tea in front of Enjolras and nearly falls into his lap. “Ack, sorry!” 

That’s easily resolved when Grantaire finds himself pulled that direction anyway. Enjolras’s chest against his back is comfortably warm, and Grantaire can probably stay there forever, sipping tea and cuddling. “So, Enjolras, I don’t know much about you, aside from the apparent fact that the black tea that I brew might hold a candle to your beloved coffee…” 

When Enjolras walks out the door, and Grantaire doesn’t say anything at his back because Enjolras promised to return (on purpose). 

**Author's Note:**

> Enjolras is oblivious and adorable. So is Grantaire.
> 
> Comments are very welcome, whether it’s constructive criticism or just to say hi.
> 
> Here’s my [Tumblr](http://cx-shhhh.tumblr.com/)...


End file.
